It seems crazy to me that just a few years ago Vancouver was running a deficit of very good pizza. Weve always had lots of pizzerias or restaurants that offer pizza (in addition to many other menu items) but, until recently, very few of these outlets turned the cranks of those looking for some authenticity.
That word authenticity is particularly loaded. To some it means oversized, ridiculously over-oiled New York slices or the eggless quiche-like Chicago anomaly known as deep-dish.
When purists employ it, they mean Neapolitan (Naples is the birthplace of pizza). These pies are typically made with 00 Caputo flour and flash-baked in super-hot ovens (preferably wood-burning) for no more than 90 seconds to pimple-char the outer ridge of a crust that is as thin as a pillow sheet. The tomatoes are ideally San Marzanos imported from Italy and the primary cheese is either fiore di latte or buffalo mozzarella. (While they can play host to a wide variety of toppings, you can count things like pineapple and BBQ sauce out). They are finished with a drizzle of olive oil and retain their heat for no more than 10 minutes, after which they suffer a sogginess that wouldnt pass muster with a stoned college kid. The distance between one of these babies and one of the artless frisbees sourced from a big chain pizzeria can be measured in miles down a steep hill.
And to think that they were nearly impossible to get in Vancouver until just a few years ago! Since 2009 weve welcomed Nook on Denman, Campagnolo on Main, Campagnolo Roma on East Hastings, Nicli Antica Pizzeria on East Cordova, Bibo on West 4th and Verace on Abbott. All swim in the same authenticity pool, and more are on the way, too, with Novo on Burrard expected to open very shortly, and Barbarella on East Broadway set to follow soon after that.
The most recent to land was Pizzeria Farina on Main St., just off Union at the western edge of my Strathcona neighbourhood. I was so excited when it arrived two weeks ago that I parked my family there on its first night.
They made enough dough to make 65 pizzas that night, and quickly sold out. They dont have an hour at which they close; they just shut down when they run out of dough. To wit, the night before last they amped up their production to 91 pizzas and still sold out before most restaurants had finished their dinner rush. (They had originally planned to do delivery by bicycle to the neighbourhood, but on account of the nightly sell-outs, that plan has been scrapped.) For my part, Ive been back twice since that first time; a testament in such a pizza-crowded landscape that it must be pretty good.
Co-owned by the folks behind Gastowns Pourhouse restaurant and chef Jean-Christophe Poirier, Farina is a diminutive hole-in-a-wall. It looks as good as it smells (all red and white with a central communal table), and theyre quick at both the cash register and the oven. Beyond branded retail jars of tomato sauce, spiced oil and such, pizza is the only thing they do. Their beverage program is made up of sparkling or still water, both of which come free of charge. Want a beer? Too bad. Its the very definition of an establishment narrowing its focus to do one thing only, and they do it very well.
A margherita just tomato sauce with basil and mozzarella is the measure of any quality pizzeria, and here theyre entirely satisfactory ($12). The sauce is salty + sweet = near perfect. (Id like to see a default drizzle of spiced oil, but thankfully they supply it table side). The dough developed by Poirier and local pastry prodigy Paul Croteau is as thin as prescribed by the Neapolitan order of things, only slightly firmer, lending it a slight chewiness, which I adore. It doesnt flop down limply when help up, and maintains enough maleability to allow for the libretto (the act of folding a pizza slice closed, like a little book).
Ive nearly exhausted the menu, and Im so partial to everything Ive tried that decisions can now be made with a dart and a blindfold. The earthy funghi is sauceless save for a wipe of garlic, parmesan and a stud of red onions under a strata of razor-thin slices of mushrooms and a forest of arugula ($13); the quatro formmagi isnt a gooey cheese overload, but sparsely enough set with parmesan, ricotta, provolone and mozzarella to allow for some basil to sing through ($14); the Calabrese sees mild soppressatta (it should be spicier) deliciously co-mingling with nicoise olives ($14); and my favourite the finnochiona is bombed with chunks of fennel sausage, splats of provolone and punchy chiffonades of spicy peppers ($14). Go with any of those and youre guaranteed a good meal, but go early (they open at 5pm) or you might find yourself without any meal at all.
Pizzeria Farina | 915 Main St. | 604-681-9334 | PizzeriaFarina.com
